


The Price of Chivalry

by dkwilliams



Series: Just Sex [2]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 19:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5061850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dkwilliams/pseuds/dkwilliams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Methos arrives in Seacouver to warn Duncan about a past enemy – and to give him another lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price of Chivalry

**Author's Note:**

> Written before 1999.

Methos stared at the report in front of him and wondered what he should do.

Theoretically, he knew what he should do – file this report under NMB (None of My Business) and carry on with his usual routine. There were intriguing rumors that one of his journals from the 12th century had made its way into a little library in Italy, and Italy was nice this time of year.

Not like Seacouver, with its cold and rain and hot-and-cold-running Immortals, most of which seemed to be after Duncan MacLeod's head. Including the most recent resident of that city, the one whose Watcher's report he was holding. The one who had just started up an affair with MacLeod's young protégé.

No, the smart money was on Italy. Far, far away from an all too fascinating Immortal who had managed to get under his skin like no one had in at least a hundred years. He picked up his phone and dialed the number of his travel agent.

As he waited on hold, his eyes fell on the report again and, against his will, he remembered the last time he had seen the Highlander. It had been a few days after Duncan had instigated a casual sexual relationship between them, and Methos had gone over to the barge with a six-pack of beer and the intention of getting the Scot into bed for a second lesson. Arriving at the barge, however, he had found Duncan packing for a return to Seacouver, preoccupied with plans involving an old girlfriend and a renovated house. Or something like that. Methos hadn't been paying too much attention at the time, having been a little numb with shock at the abrupt desertion following the onset of their physical relationship.

And so he had driven Duncan to the airport, wished him luck, and then returned home to drink himself into oblivion over the weekend. It had really, really been a mistake to take Duncan MacLeod up on his offer – and at his age, he was supposed to know better. After all, to the Highlander it had just been about sex, while to Methos it had been much, much more. A mistake that he wouldn't be making again – as long as he stayed far away from the Highlander.

He had kept in contact with Joe, though, and knew when Amanda had breezed into MacLeod's life again and then back out. Leaving the Scot – for the moment, at any rate – alone in Seacouver. And the way his libido had reacted at that news was enough to make him wary about getting anywhere near the mesmerizing man. Which was why he was going to Italy. Definitely.

A voice came on the other end of the phone line, startling him out of his thoughts. "Hello? Yes, I'd like to book one seat on the earliest flight to Seacouver…"

* * *

Duncan was intently studying paint chips when the warning tingle of Immortal presence made him sit up and look towards the doorway. It wasn't Richie – the young Immortal usually used the lift. And he wasn't expecting Amanda or any of his other Immortal friends.

He stood up and considered grabbing his sword, but the light knocking on the door reassured him a little. Headhunters didn't tend to knock politely. Cautiously, he opened the door.

The man outside took in his defensive stance, giving him an amused and slightly sardonic smile. "Candy-gram."

"Methos!" he said, a delighted smile lighting up his face. "Or should I call you Adam?"

Methos entered the narrow hallway. "Only you and Joe know that I'm Methos the Immortal. To the rest of the world I'm still Adam Pierson, mild-mannered watcher." He paused in the main room and looked around him, taking in the layout of the loft.

"How's Paris?" Duncan asked, closing the door and following him.

 _Empty_ , Methos thought but he managed a smirk for Duncan's benefit. "It's a lot quieter since you left." He set down his bag and wandered towards the table, curiously examining the color cards on it. "Taking up origami?"

Duncan watched Methos, wondering what had brought the old Immortal all the way from Paris. Could the old man have missed him? The thought kindled a warm feeling in his belly. "No, I'm just renovating an old house."

"It's good to keep busy," Methos replied easily but Duncan had the feeling that there was something else on the other man's mind. Knowing the devious nature of the other man's mind, he knew it would take awhile before the other Immortal got around to the reason for his visit, so he decided to take the bull by the horns

"So, what brings a 5000 year old man to me?" he asked, crossing his arms and regarding the other man.

Methos paused for a moment, considering just exactly how he wanted to phrase this. "Kristen's in town." He noted Duncan's startled look. "She just opened a new branch of her agency."

"So?" Duncan said with deliberate nonchalance, now that the initial shock had passed. That was a name he had never expected to hear again – didn't want to hear.

"So I thought you should know." Methos' sharp eyes studied the Scot intently.

"Well, now I know." At the look he got from the other Immortal, he said, "Look, it's over, done. History."

"If you say so."

Methos' tone betrayed disbelief, and Duncan decided that a change of subject was needed. "Do you want a coffee?"

"Yes – no. Beer." He watched Duncan move about the kitchen and said, mildly, "Lucky you get over things. From what I know, Kristen's not the type anyone forgets."

Duncan's thoughts drifted briefly back to the time when he and Kristen had been together – interesting and enjoyable for awhile until Kristen's demands on him had gotten confining - and he almost missed Methos' next words.

"You've got a young friend – Richie Ryan. He met Kristen yesterday morning."

Duncan looked over at Methos, surprised. "He didn't tell me that."

Methos smirked. "Maybe he hasn't got out of bed yet." He looked back at Duncan and noted the worried look on the other man's face.

Duncan set the beer down on the counter, heading for his jacket. "I've got to go talk to him."

Methos sighed. He had his doubts about the wisdom of the approaching Richie right now, fresh from the arms of his new lover, but he knew it would be a bigger mistake to let Duncan go on his own so he invited himself along. And, after watching the confrontation between the two from his place in the car, he was glad that he had. And he could see that Kristen's parting shot – "Is that what you do with all your lovers when you're through with them?" – had rattled the Highlander.

"Round one to Kristen," he said sardonically as Duncan got back in the car.

Duncan pointedly ignored his comment, starting the car and heading back towards the loft. He was silent during the drive, brooding about something, and Methos refrained from saying anything else. It was clear that the other man had issues to resolve within himself, so now was definitely not the time to make a pest of himself.

When they got back up to the loft, he picked up his bag. "Well, it's been an interesting morning, but I think I'll shove off now."

Duncan looked at him in surprise. "You're leaving?"

"I'm not leaving town – not for a few days, anyways. I'll get a hotel room and then pop around to see Joe – "

"You don't need a hotel. There's plenty of room here."

Methos snorted. "Thanks all the same, but I have a feeling that I'll be more comfortable in a hotel."

Duncan looked disappointed. "I was really hoping that you'd stay. You promised me a rematch in chess."

"What, in a hurry to get beaten again?" Methos teased.

"Who says that you're going to beat me?" Duncan asked, grinning back at him.

"History."

Duncan stepped up behind Methos. "I'll take that chance." He took Methos' bag away and dropped it on the floor. "You're staying here."

"I am?" Methos asked, then drew in a sharp breath as Duncan pressed up closer behind him and nuzzled his neck. "I am."

"Good," Duncan murmured, his mouth moving up to tease at Methos' ear lobe. "Because I think it's time for another lesson."

Methos turned to face the other man and his arms slid around Duncan's body for support. He forgot his earlier decision not to get involved with the Scot again as he asked, a little breathlessly, "What did you have in mind?"

Duncan's mouth moved back down to nibble at his lover's long, pale neck. "Last time, when you said 'everything', did you mean _everything_?"

Methos easily interpreted that question. "You want to fuck me?"

"Yeah," Duncan breathed. "Will you show me how?"

Methos closed his eyes and tried to breathe. He wanted this so much that he was certain he'd fall apart before the Highlander got inside him.

"Methos?"

He opened his eyes and found Duncan looking at him in concern. Methos managed a weak smile. "It's okay. It's just–it's been awhile since I let anybody–"

"It's okay," Duncan said quickly. "We don't have to."

"I _want_ to," Methos said, just as quickly. He stepped back and started to pull his sweater over his head, but Duncan stopped him.

"I want to do that."

Methos let go of his sweater and held out his arms, inviting Duncan to go for it. Duncan smiled, his hands skimming under the baggy sweater to caress the sleek skin underneath while his mouth went back to work on Methos' neck. Methos caught his breath as questing fingers brushed over his nipples; he had almost forgotten what a sensual lover Duncan was. He revised his earlier opinion – he would lose it before Duncan even got him naked.

As if sensing his desperation, Duncan stopped feasting on his neck and pulled Methos' sweater over his head. Jeans were hastily unfastened and discarded and, before Methos could blink, he was lying on the bed with Duncan's warm and naked body stretched over his. Duncan's mouth had gone back to Methos' neck while his hands ran up and down his body, and Methos arched under the caresses.

"Mac," he gasped. "If you don't hurry, this is all going to be over before it starts."

Duncan lifted his head and looked down into the bright, almost feral eyes. "What do I need to do?"

"You'll need to loosen me first. Got some kind of lubricant?"

Duncan sat up and rummaged in the nightstand, then pulled out a bottle of massage oil. "Is this okay?"

Methos nodded, drawing his knees up to his chest. "Oil up a finger and push it into me."

Duncan hesitantly pushed a finger inside and grinned as he heard Methos groan. "You're so tight. Is this usual?"

"I told you that it's been awhile," Methos gasped, rocking against the intruding finger. "God, that feels good! Add another one."

Duncan did as instructed, quickly getting the hang of it as he moved his fingers in and out, scissoring his fingers to further relax the muscle. "How long?"

Methos gave him a glare – only the Highlander would initiate a cross-examination during sex. "Not in Adam Pierson's lifetime, if you must know."

Duncan grinned at that. "Does this mean I'm getting Adam's cherry?"

Methos rolled his eyes. "And what makes you think he'd give it up for you?"

Duncan chuckled and worked his fingers rapidly inside his lover, making him groan and arch his back. "I think the evidence supports that, don't you? Besides, Adam Pierson has a crush on me."

"You wish!"

"Admit it – he got a hard-on when Duncan MacLeod walked into his place that first time." Duncan experimentally flexed his fingers, delighted with his lover's shivering response.

"You are so full of it."

Duncan laughed again. "Looks like _you're_ going to be full of it." He thought that the other man seemed loose enough and removed his fingers, slicking up his cock with more oil.

Methos glared at him. "Would you quit talking about it and just do it?"

Duncan moved into place between Methos' thighs and lined up his cock against the loosened entrance. "Pushy, aren't you?"

Methos growled. "I'll show you _pushy_!" He wrapped a leg around Duncan's waist and pulled him closer, forcing the large cock-head inside him. Both men groaned, Methos from the sudden fullness and Duncan from the unaccustomed pressure around his cock. It was so tight, tighter than any woman he had ever had, and he had to breathe deeply to keep from coming on the spot.

Methos was groaning and swearing under him, but it was obvious that the man wasn't in any pain. Duncan managed a breathy chuckle at his lover's insistent demands.

"Okay, okay, I'm _moving_." He began with shallow thrusts, moving deeper inside his lover with each one. "No wonder you haven't gotten laid in a decade if this is the way you act in bed. I'm surprised no one has smothered you to stop your bitching."

Methos was panting, on the edge between pleasure and pain, needing more stimulation than the slow, careful strokes he was getting. "I'll have you know – my ass has been – in great demand in the past. They lined up – for miles – for a poke at me."

"Blah, blah, blah." Duncan found himself fully sheathed inside the tight heat and had to lie still while he took several deep breaths. "Oh, shit."

Methos growled in frustration. "For God's sake, MacLeod, are you taking a _nap_ up there?"

Duncan pulled back and then thrust forward hard. Methos let out a half-gasp, half-sob, and Duncan grinned down at him.

"That good enough for you, Old man?"

Methos glared at him. "Stop talking and start fucking!"

Duncan pulled Methos' legs up on his shoulders, then began a series of quick, deep thrusts. Methos groaned and clutched Duncan's arms, panting with pleasure as a constant litany of groans, pleas, and demands fell from his lips. Duncan was tempted to see if kissing him would shut him up, but was stopped by Methos' prohibition against it. Pity, too – kissing was one of Duncan's favorite things to do, and he was very, very good at it. And Methos had a mouth that was meant to be kissed, lips that should be swollen from kissing – or from sucking cock.

The memory of their last encounter and that mouth on his cock made him shudder with remembered bliss, and he was close, so close. But he wanted to make Methos come first.

He shifted slightly, trying to determine the right angle, and thrust experimentally. A shout from Methos told him that he had nailed the right spot and he concentrated on repeating that thrust. Methos threw back his head and howled with pleasure, and the sight was so erotic that Duncan felt his own climax ripped from him. He thrust uncontrollably, driven by need, until he was completely spent. Barely aware of anything but the limp form under him, he just managed to keep from totally collapsing on his lover's body.

"Bloody hell, Mac," came a faint and slightly complaining voice below him. "Even with Immortal healing, I'm going to be walking funny tomorrow."

Duncan chuckled and carefully pulled out, collapsing beside the other man. "You're impossible. Did you know that?"

"All part of my charm," Methos said with as much of his usual smugness as he could imagine, given the fact that he was panting like a racehorse and had the uncomfortable feeling that he was grinning like a fool.

Duncan rolled over on his side, leaning up on one elbow as he ran the other hand over his lover's cooling body. "So why has it been so long?"

Methos blinked, wondering if Duncan was asking why he waited so long before coming to visit him. "Excuse me?"

"Since you last took a male lover. You obviously enjoy it – "

Methos glared at his erstwhile lover and pushed away the caressing hand. "You know, Mac, your post-coital conversation could use a little work. Do you grill Amanda on her latest heists?"

He tried to get out of the bed but Duncan pulled him back down, pinning his body under the larger man's bulk. Duncan nuzzled at Methos' neck as he murmured, "You were incredible – and have I told you how grateful I am for the gift you've given me?"

Methos grimaced. "Hell, Mac – that's even worse! Don't tell me those lines actually _work_ with the women you sleep with?"

Duncan chuckled and let his mouth work even lower, teasing a nipple with his tongue. "By the time I finish with them, most women are too sated with pleasure to talk or care what I'm saying."

Methos snorted. "Don't think much of yourself, do you, MacLeod?"

"I thought you'd be the last one to preach false modesty, Mr.-I've-dined-and-puked-with-Caesar." His mouth moved down the flat belly, lapping up the evidence of his lover's previous orgasm before briefly teasing his belly button.

Methos groaned as he felt the other man's mouth encircle his rapidly hardening cock and abandoned all thoughts of conversation. Conversation was highly overrated, especially when the Highlander was demonstrating just how much he had learned from his first lesson.

And, even better, Duncan hadn't even noticed that Methos had avoided answering his question.

* * *

When Methos woke, he found that he was alone in the big bed. The buzz he felt told him that Duncan was somewhere nearby and he lay there for a long moment, debating between going back to sleep and making Duncan see reason about this woman. Kristen was a weak spot and she was going to get Duncan killed. He sighed and cursed all chivalry-ridden Scots, throwing back the covers and dragging himself out of bed.

He showered and pulled on his discarded clothing, then made his way down to the dojo. Pausing in the doorway to make the traditional honorary bow, he found his attention captured by the man working out in the middle of the room. Duncan moved through his exercises with the same fluid grace he had displayed as a lover, and even as Methos shed his coat, he found himself thinking about ways to tempt the man back upstairs to bed. First things first, though – and the first thing was to save the stupid man's head.

"MacLeod-san," he said, approaching the other man. "That katana is a lovely piece of art. May I?" He saw MacLeod's startled surprise at the request and held up his hands. "I washed my hands before I came down."

MacLeod hesitated another moment, then extended the hilt of the katana, resting the tip against the fabric of his shirt to prevent the oils on his skin from marring it. Methos took the hilt in his hands, studying the sword appreciatively.

"Quite a blade," he said admiringly, turning the hilt in his hands, then gave Duncan a wicked look – just before swinging the katana around so that the blade rested against Duncan's throat.

"Not funny, Methos," Duncan growled as Methos moved forward, forcing him back.

The humor had left Methos' face, replaced by grim determination. "Not meant to be." He continued to force Duncan back as he said, "Not only are you naïve but now you are weaponless. How have you lived this long? Do you know how many Immortals she's killed? You want a list?"

Duncan now had his back against the wall. "All right, you've made your point."

"Have I?" Methos pressed the blade even closer against his throat. "One day she is going to kill you."

"She's tried already." _And failed_ , the tone of his voice added.

Methos was tempted to smack the man. "You're better with a blade than her – yes. You're stronger than her – yes. But if you keep letting her walk away, one day she gets lucky and takes your head – _yes_!"

Duncan's jaw clenched. "I don't know. Maybe she'll stop to gloat like you." He shoved, catching Methos off balance and sending him sprawling on the floor. "You want to play?" he demanded, heading for his spare swords on the wall.

Methos glared at the other man as he picked himself up off the floor. "Great! You knock me on my bum because I make a bad joke – very macho." Duncan ignored him, pulling out a sword. "You keep letting her walk away without even taking a shot – _that_ is very suicidal."

Duncan faced him. "You know what she was to me."

"Yes! And I know what she is – a killer!"

They began sparring, and Duncan was pleased to see that the old man's fighting skills had improved since Methos had tried to get him to take his head. He had been worried about the other man, worried that he had gotten too rusty to protect himself in a fight.

It was always invigorating to spar against a new partner, particularly when one didn't have to worry about the usual little nicks and cuts. Before too long, however, he had tricked Methos into overextending and caught him with his sword down. His blade halted an inch away from Methos' exposed neck, and the other man grinned at him ad he tried to catch his breath.

"I've got to practice more. You guys have got a lot of new moves."

"It's called progress." Duncan hadn't forgotten Methos' earlier demonstration and pressed his blade closer, forcing the other man to one knee.

Methos looked up at him and said sarcastically, "Well, then get with it. Before Kristen kills you and your friend."

Duncan looked down at the kneeling man, appreciating the exposed column of Methos' pale neck and the sheen of sweat over his skin. It reminded him of the way Methos had looked earlier, lying under him in bed as he pumped in and out of the older Immortal's willing body, and he was suddenly aroused again. He leaned forward to kiss Methos –

And was interrupted as both of them felt the buzz of Immortal presence. Their heads turned towards the door as Richie Ryan entered. He looked surprised to see the two of them, Methos on his knees under Duncan's sword, and paused.

"Hello," he said. "I take it this is not for real?"

"God forbid," Methos muttered.

Duncan stepped back, letting Methos up. "Just making a point."

Methos held out his hand before Duncan could say anything more. "Hello, I'm Adam Pierson. You must be Richie Ryan?"

"Yes," Richie said, shaking his hand.

"Someone here speaks very highly of you," Methos added.

Richie beamed with pleasure. "Nice to meet you – and thanks very much, Mac," Richie said, his eyes then turning to Duncan and thereby missing Methos' eyes sharply appraising him. "Speaking of which, I have got to tell you about this woman I met. She's unbelievable. Her name's – "

Kristen," Duncan said quietly. "I know." He turned away.

"You know?" Richie asked, surprised. "How do you know? Mac?"

Duncan refused to say anything more until they were all seated up in the loft, then proceeded to tell Richie about his past history with Kristen. Richie didn't want to hear any of it, convinced that it was simply a case of Duncan not understanding or being jealous, and left the loft in a huff.

Duncan sighed as he sat down next to Methos. "He's not even listening to me."

"How could he?" Methos said simply. "She's got him tingling in places he didn't even know he had. Maybe we should just give him the room, let him make his own mistakes."

"Even if it gets him killed?" Duncan stormed out and Methos sighed. He had a feeling that this situation was going to get worse.

* * *

Duncan returned from another confrontation, this time with both Kristen and Richie, and dragged Methos off to paint a house, of all things. A house the Highlander was fixing up for an old lover. Methos smiled sourly – suddenly there seemed to be a surplus of ex-lovers in town to deal with, and he wasn't at all sure he liked it.

Duncan took back up the discussion they had started and Methos pointed out that Richie didn't know the full story – that Kristen had murdered a mortal out of jealousy.

"You let her walk away then, you let her walk away now. What exactly are you waiting for?" Methos wiped the paint off his hands as he talked. "You know that she killed Louise Barton because you know what kind of woman she is. If she'd have been a man, she'd have been dead three hundred and fifty years ago."

Duncan was still ignoring him and Methos said, in exasperation, "A couple of medieval song writers come up with the idea of chivalry one rainy day – "

"This isn't about chivalry."

" – and you embrace it as a lifestyle. You live and die by a code of honor that was trendy when you were a kid."

Duncan turned and looked at him. "Would you rather that I had no code of honor at all?"

Methos looked him directly in the eye. "I would rather you survived. You put _that_ first."

"Do you think it's _easy_ killing a woman that you've held in your arms, a woman you made love to?"

"Take it from me, it's easier than dying," Methos pointed out. Duncan turned away. "Look at me, MacLeod. I didn't last five thousand years by worrying about someone other than myself."

Duncan looked over at the older Immortal in amusement, despite his annoyance with the old Immortal. Methos had been worrying about him since the day they'd met – was still worrying about him, in point of fact.

"You could have fooled me." Driven by an impish impulse, he swiped his paintbrush down the other man's nose.

Methos glared at him and stalked off indignantly, but Duncan found that his own bad mood had been lifted. Which was probably what the damned, interfering old man had intended. Duncan grinned and decided that maybe they'd done enough painting for one day. It was time to drag Methos back to the loft – and back to bed.

* * *

They were in the middle of dinner when an agitated Richie burst into the loft, angry and still feeling the effects of Immortal healing after leaping out of Kristen's office window. A discussion with her about releasing a friend of Richie's from her modeling contract had turned ugly and violent – especially when Richie had tried to walk out on Kristen. Methos listened to the story with growing disbelief.

"Round two to Kristen," Methos said scathingly. "You dump her and then you turn your back on her?" he asked incredulously, then looked past Richie to the silent Scot. "Talk about the blind leading the visually challenged."

Both of the other men ignored him, Duncan pointing out that Richie's friend, Marie, was probably in danger. Richie hurried out, and Duncan went for his coat as well.

"Where are you going?" Methos asked sharply.

"Kristen's," Duncan said shortly, snagging Methos' coat as well. "Coming? I'm sure it's something you don't want to miss." He tossed the coat to Methos as he got into the elevator, Methos right behind him.

* * *

By the time they got to Kristen's, she'd already drugged the young model and dumped her into the pool. The mortal wasn't dead yet, and Duncan left her in Methos' hands as he went in pursuit of Kristen. She'd denied everything, as before, and Duncan had been forced to challenge her.

In the end, though, Duncan hadn't been able to take her head and had walked away again. Methos hadn't walked away, though, arriving on the scene and challenging Kristen. She hadn't been much of a fight – Kristen had always relied on her looks and her wiles to get out of a fight. Methos hadn't hesitated when she was on her knees before him, only looking at Duncan for a long moment afterward before saying, without regret or remorse, "Someone had to."

And then the Quickening hit him, lancing through him so painfully that he cried out and collapsed on his knees, shuddering as wave after wave rolled over him. It had been two hundred years since he had last taken a Quickening, and he couldn't help sobbing out loud at the painful invasion of his body. He hated this, fucking _hated_ it, and he hadn't had to take one of the damned things in so long, and wouldn't have had to do it now if the fucking Boy Scout hadn't had so many morals –

He was barely aware of Duncan dragging him to his feet and hustling him away from the scene. Duncan was silent as he drove, and Methos thought he could feel the anger rolling off of the other man. Methos was too tired and sick to press the issue, too heart-torn to point out that it had been the only way. Not that it would matter in any event – after this, the Scot would be all too ready to see his back.

 _It's been great, Mac,_ he thought a little sourly as he leaned his head against the window, _but I guess all good things…_

He managed to rouse himself enough to follow Duncan up to the loft and headed for his bag. Making sure that everything he needed was inside, he zipped it up and slung it across his shoulder. He glanced across the room at where Duncan stood, leaning against the counter and silently nursing a beer. Duncan hadn't looked at him the whole time, and Methos decided that he'd better get moving before the Highlander decided that Kristen's death needed to be avenged.

Drawing in a deep breath and marshalling the last of his reserves, he said brightly, "Well, Mac, it's been fun and I hate to run, but I've got to catch a flight – "

Duncan snorted. "Looking like that?" he asked bluntly. Methos didn't need to look down to know that his clothes were sweat-stained and liberally smeared with blood and sand. "You won't even be able to get a cab – except maybe to the nearest police station."

Duncan set down his beer and crossed the room to take Methos' bag out of his hand. "There's clean towels in the bathroom, and I'll dig up an extra set of sweats while your clothes are being washed."

Methos' body ached at the nearness of the Scot, and his Quickening-hardened cock throbbed painfully. Hoarsely, he said, "You don't want me hanging around here."

"Why not?"

Methos blinked. "Why – Mac, I just _killed_ your old girlfriend! I expect that I'm the last person you want to see at the moment!"

For the first time, Duncan looked at him, and Methos could see a combination of sorrow and understanding in his dark eyes. He was struck dumb as Duncan touched Methos' cheek gently. "You didn't do it for spite, or for her Quickening. You did it because it needed to be done, and because I couldn't. And in spite of my lack of gratitude."

Methos knew that his jaw dropped because he heard Duncan's soft chuckle. "Go on. Get a shower and I'll make you something to eat."

"You sure?" Methos said uncertainly. "Because I can be out of here in five minutes, tops."

"I'm sure," Duncan said, and kissed his cheek. "Now go on."

Methos nodded and headed towards the bathroom, pausing in the doorway to look back at the Scot. He was standing where Methos had left him, a sad expression on his face but there didn't seem to be any anger. Methos almost would have preferred anger – at least it would get everything out in the open. He couldn't believe that the Highlander had forgiven him so easily, had the uneasy feeling that this would come back to bite him later, but at the moment he wasn't inclined to press the issue. He was too tired to fight, too rattled to defend himself against either Duncan's tongue or sword, and too terribly needy to risk losing the other man if their relationship could be salvaged. So as long as Duncan would let him, he'd stick around. At least until he ran out of reasons to stay.

* * *

A week passed, Methos finding more excuses to remain, especially since Duncan didn't seem to be in any hurry to get rid of him. In fact, Duncan seemed to enjoy his company, both in and out of bed, and he didn't seem to mind the fact that both Joe and Richie knew that the two of them were sleeping together. Joe had been rather amused over the whole development, promising to keep his entries in Duncan's Chronicles discreet. Richie had been clearly more dismayed, but whether that was because Methos was a man or because Methos was the one who had taken his ex-lover's head was in question. Methos had a feeling it was the latter.

Methos returned from a beer-shopping expedition to find Richie and Duncan talking together in the loft. "Hi guys!" he said cheerfully. "How're you doing"

Richie gave him a forced smile and headed for his jacket, murmuring something about having to leave. Methos gave Duncan a "what did I say?" look, and Duncan sighed and said Richie would get over it.

"She would have kept coming, you know," Methos pointed out, knowing that Duncan was saying what both he and Richie felt. "And one day she might have won." He carried the beer over to the fridge and Duncan followed him.

"I know."

Methos gave him a sharp look. "And still if you had your chance again you wouldn't kill her, would you?"

"Probably not."

"Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," Methos said in affectionately exasperation, handing the other man a beer as he put the rest in the fridge and opened one for himself.

Duncan raised the bottle in mock salute. "That's who I am."

"Well, I guess someone has to be," Methos returned with a smile, then his face went serious. " _You_ will get over it, too."

"Perhaps." Duncan's voice was soft and sad, and he quickly changed subjects to the color of paint for the interior of the house he was remodeling. Methos settled on the couch with a contented smile. He and Duncan had weathered this storm a lot easier than he had expected, and the price each had paid had been relatively small. It almost made him hopeful for the future.

* * *

The End


End file.
